


Deliver me from nightmares

by I_will_say_oh



Series: Scars [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anal Fingering, Autism Spectrum, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Hastur-centric (Good Omens), Hurt/Comfort, Ligur Lives (Good Omens), M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romance, Self-Harm, sex without love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-19 04:54:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20651528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_will_say_oh/pseuds/I_will_say_oh
Summary: Upon waking up, Hastur stared up at the ceiling for a long time, trying his best not to cry, until he realized that heavy tears had been raining down from his eyes all along, and as the wet pillow could testify, he had been crying even in his sleep.





	Deliver me from nightmares

**Author's Note:**

Ligur gently rubbed Hastur’s back, eliciting a quiet sigh. His strong arms carefully massaged his shoulders, and Hastur was slowly melting under the touches. And when Ligur touched his lips to the base of his neck, Hastur couldn’t suppress a moan. He turned around, pressing his lips to Ligur’s warm and soft ones. 

“My sin. My love,” whispered Ligur between kisses, and tenderness and arousal swirled in Hastur’s head. 

They were holding each other, pressing tightly, and Ligur was kissing him passionately, with all his love and lust poured in the kiss. Hastur gasped when Ligur’s hot palm nested between his legs, caressing his cock through the fabric of his underwear. Hastur broke the kiss and leaned back, his whole body impatient and shivering, and watched the burning eyes and smile of his partner. So much love in those eyes. And all of it for him, just for him. Hastur wanted it, he breathed it and lived it. Ligur, his magnificent demon, burning and passionate, and so very familiar… 

Upon waking up, Hastur stared up at the ceiling for a long time, trying his best not to cry, until he realized that heavy tears had been raining down from his eyes all along, and as the wet pillow could testify, he had been crying even in his sleep. His broken heart was pounding in his chest. He hadn’t been in so much pain for days now. He curled to one side and sank his teeth into this palm. The sharp pain in his thumb helped sober him up a bit, spreading like warmth through his body, but muting only slightly the pandemonium in his soul. He tasted ichor on his lips and tongue, but kept on biting down, until it was unbearably painful, and he got scared. Releasing his hand, Hastur bit into the pillow next and wailed in it, knees curling up to his chest. He felt so lonely and miserable… 

Someone’s hands gripped him across his chest and turned him to the other side. Hastur lay limp, with his eyes squeezed shut, and cried quietly, even as the hands gently caressed his head and shoulders. 

“Quiet, quiet, dear boy,” whispered Aziraphale, not quite managing to hide the fear in his trembling voice. “I’m here. Did you have a nightmare?” 

Hastur gritted his teeth and pressed his face into the angel’s warm chest. This calmed him down only marginally, and he was still shivering. His hand was throbbing and he hugged it to his chest, cupping it with the other and squeezing, to make himself feel alive. 

Aziraphale always asked, but never demanded an answer. Ever since Hastur had been living at his place, the angel was always nearby, except for a few times when he went away on some business of his own. Hastur didn’t really care – he spent that time just lying, staring at the ceiling and waiting. He didn’t feel like doing anything… alone. 

The angel invariably smelled of cocoa, and sometimes of books. But that was detectable only when they weren’t in the parlor which was so much like a library. Hastur remembered what had happened between them there, on the sofa, and couldn’t explain even to himself why and how it happened. Aziraphale usually didn’t stir in him any desires whatsoever – he was too kind, too polite… he was an angel, even if he had a barely discernible darkness somewhere inside, where Hastur had not yet reached. He was so attentive to him, always helped him and never judged him. Maybe that reminded him of the past, which obsessively stalked him in his dreams. 

Hastur shuddered and hugged Aziraphale back, hearing a surprised inhale and a disapproving murmur about his bitten hand. But the angel kept on stroking his hair, until Hastur wasn’t feeling so horrible anymore. He stopped feeling anything, in fact, lying in the offered embrace and breathing evenly, like he did in his sleep. Sometimes he simply couldn’t calm down without that, and it made him feel like a human, but that was the least of his problems. 

\--- 

Leaning back in the bathtub with a bandaged hand, he allowed himself to be scrubbed down with a sponge. In time, he got used to the notion that Aziraphale was trying to get rid of any and all dirt in his house, and even learned to like the process of bathing. The angel, sans suit jacket and vest, and with his sleeves rolled up, was kneeling next to the bathtub and carefully sponging off his arm while holding him by the shoulder. Hastur closed his eyes. Despite being a demon, he still sometimes felt that he was inconveniencing his host with his helplessness. Even he didn’t like the feeling. 

“I’ll do it,” he grumbled eventually, when the feeling, shame, grew to such proportions that it threatened to suffocate him. 

Hastur took the sponge from Aziraphale’s hand and froze when their eyes momentarily met. There was amazement in the widely open blue eyes. There were strange sparkles in them, too, and Hastur felt embarrassed. He sank in the water, trying to hide from that look. Aziraphale, it seemed, realized his misstep. He neatly gripped him under the arms and pulled him back up to the surface. 

“I’m sorry. It’s just that I didn’t expect you to start talking to me. Ever since you came to me, you’ve been… you’ve been silent.” 

Hastur turned away from the angel, suddenly embarrassed about his presence by the bathtub. He tried to calm down, absently rubbing here and there with the sponge, but the water was too cold all of a sudden, and the sponge – too scratchy. Hastur nervously squeezed it, squirting lather all over. Aziraphale reached for him, but Hastur pushed his hand away and tried to hide behind the bathtub’s edge and the shower curtain. Aziraphale fretfully got up and took a step back. Hastur sat in silence with his eyes squeezed shut, listening to his own breathing and the quiet lap of the water. When he calmed down somewhat, he opened them. 

The dissolving ichor from his damaged hand was turning the water grey. Aziraphale was still nearby, standing by the wall and looking at him worriedly. Hastur’s head drooped. He felt devastated after every panic attack. He allowed the angel to come closer and help him wash the lather off his hair and skin. Aziraphale touched him with careful hands, rubbed his shoulders and chest, and it bitterly brought back Hastur’s dream. He catastrophically lacked warmth, he catastrophically lacked… 

Hastur reached for the angel, catching his face between his palms, and pressing into the lips parted open in surprise. He didn’t look at him and didn’t see Aziraphale’s reaction, but a few seconds into the kiss, he felt the beginnings of a response. Hastur tried hard to chase out of his mind any images of what was happening. It was just a kiss, it was just proximity, he needed so badly to just be with someone right now, someone who would give him warmth, a feeling that he was not alone, that he was needed; someone who would not let him crash down into his own mangled mind and drown in the vortex of his private grief. Hastur pulled Aziraphale to him, almost pulling him into the tub. The angel tried to pull away and grumbled in protest, and Hastur, eyes still closed, waved a hand and miracled all the water down the drain. After that, the angel did get inside with him, barely fitting between his knees. The space proved to be too small for the both of them, but Hastur realized that only belatedly; he also realized belatedly that he was now completely naked. He stood up and just embraced Aziraphale, feeling him squeeze him closer in return, and breathed in the smell of cocoa and wet bathroom tiles. 

“Maybe we’d better go to my room?” Aziraphale offered quietly, and Hastur felt shivers run down his spine from the hot breath on his neck. 

He slowly nodded and allowed himself to be helped out of the bathtub. In Aziraphale’s room, he pressed himself to the angel once again. The towel had fallen off his hips back in the corridor, so he felt the shirt tucked into the angel’s trousers against his own naked skin. Aziraphale was holding him by the waist, haphazardly kissing his cheeks and neck, and Hastur, despite his height, was hanging off him. A part of his mind drifted back to the past, to a place that smelled grey and damp, but where strong arms tenderly held him in their embrace. Hastur gasped at a light bite where his neck met his shoulder. Aziraphale steadied him by the arms when Hastur couldn’t stand on his own feet anymore and almost sat down on the carpet. The angel kissed his face again when Hastur pulled him closer by the collar. He wanted both of them to fall right there on the floor, never making it to the bed, but Aziraphale didn’t let him and dragged him to the bed smiling. 

Hastur buried his face in the still slightly damp pillow, listening to the rustle of the angel’s clothes while he was undressing. He gasped quietly when warm palms touched his shoulders and slid down his sides, gently massaging. Aziraphale’s love for him wasn’t special, no different than the way he loved everything else around him, but he still managed to be so gentle that Hastur shuddered and melted under his touch; especially now that his wet and relaxed body fresh out of the shower was being touched by such careful hands. 

Aziraphale was in no hurry. He gently stroked his back, soothing and exciting him at the same time. Hastur was losing himself in sensations, he wanted more, and all the while he felt so safe, as if all of his problems had suddenly ceased to exist. Aziraphale was caressing him, warming him body and soul, and Hastur didn’t realize how he had started quietly moaning into the pillow when the strokes became bolder and wider. The angel slid his fingers between his cheeks, pressing a fingertip where Hastur immediately squeezed tightly on reflex, and then the hands retreated higher, caressing the small of his back. Hastur grabbed handfuls of the blanket below him, his shoulders tensing, but Aziraphale was gently rubbing his back again, returning his calm to him. When Hastur relaxed, he slid his fingers down again, eliciting another muffled moan. 

Hastur wriggled his hips, feeling a hot desire grow in him, but didn’t dare move from his position. He could feel Aziraphale confidently preparing him and could hear his quickened breaths right by him. Gentle fingers teased his entrance, gradually starting to penetrate, and Hastur gingerly moved to meet them. He was already unashamedly biting the pillow, trying to muffle at least a little bit his moans. He felt an abstract guilt in front of himself and his past because an angel, his enemy, made him feel all that, made him want closeness. Aziraphale was using only his hands for now, but Hastur no longer knew if he would need anything more. His emotions were overwhelming him, and he was drowning in them, but he didn’t want salvation. In front of him, under the tightly squeezed eyelids, was an image from the past and Hastur felt himself cry again, face pressed into the pillow. He remembered Ligur smiling at him in reality and in last night’s dream, and Hastur gripped tightly the pillow in his fists. Aziraphale, seeing that his orgasm was coming closer, sneaked a hand under his belly and that felt a lot better than the scratchy linen. Hastur moaned and thrust his hips one more time against Aziraphale’s hand, spilling himself in it, and feeling warmth and tenderness wash throughout his body. For a moment, he had the absurd feeling that Ligur was with him again, that he wasn’t just a ghost. With a thudding heart, he snapped his eyes open and turned around, but in the next moment he remembered that is wasn’t true. He had no strength left to be upset. He breathed heavily, staring at a politely smiling and shirtless Aziraphale, sitting right next to him. Hastur looked at him for a few moments, and then crawled closer and put his head on his knees. Aziraphale stroked his hair in silence. 

His heart thudded pleasantly and he couldn’t understand what he was supposed to feel and why. He didn’t want to think of anything, so he closed his eyes, listening to the quiet breathing above and abandoning himself to the affectionate stroking. He knew that the habit of sleeping was becoming part of his life, and he decided not to get in its way now that he was cocooned in such unusual calm. 

But then the lock downstairs clicked and his heartbeat leaped and derailed again. 

Aziraphale also leaped, hurriedly pulling on first his shirt and then everything else too. He looked worried and guilty, and Hastur bit hard on the inside of his cheek, frowning. He did hope that it was just a customer, but judging by the confident footfall coming from downstairs, it wasn’t so. Without saying a word, Aziraphale, valiantly trying not to look nervous, left the room and descended the stairs. 

The floor was thin enough for Hastur to make out the voice of one of his brethren. His heart pounded in panic – Crowley was the direct cause of his mental trauma and Hastur was not ready to meet him. Definitely not ready, yet. He pulled his knees up to his chest and hugged himself by the shoulders, sinking his nails in them. It didn’t help bring down his panic, and he whimpered and bit into his knee, feeling the ichor drip down his lips. 

Aziraphale was talking with Crowley downstairs. Hastur was almost certain that the angel was not telling him that he was there, or else Crowley would have come for him already. He had not seen Crowley for a long time – he did not come into the shop, maybe because he was busy. Or maybe that was where Aziraphale disappeared from time to time – he went to meet Crowley outside the bookshop so that the two of them wouldn’t run into each other. Hastur didn’t say what had happened between them, but maybe the angel had figured out by himself the reason for his state. Or maybe it was something entirely different. Thinking about Aziraphale’s motives didn’t help much in calming him down, but at least his heart wasn’t pounding deafeningly in his head anymore. 

It sounded like they were arguing. Crowley was trying to convince Aziraphale of something, who in turn was silent and only occasionally replied calmly. His unperturbed tone made Hastur listen more carefully. He could only guess, of course, but he thought they were talking about him. 

Not really knowing what he was doing, he slowly got out of the bed, picked up his still scattered clothes on the go, and headed to the corridor on shaky feet. On the way down, for some reason, all of the scars that he had ever had started to hurt. He clearly felt every bite and old scar burn. His fingers went numb, his stomach was in his throat, and he was almost sick with anxiety when he the parlor floor came into view. He was on the verge of collapsing into a swarm of maggots, but held himself together and stepped down on the soft carpet. The conversation died down at once, leaving him to shudder in the ringing silence. His heart was thudding in his ears again and a mist descended in front of his eyes. 

“Hastur?” Crowley sighed in a tone of such defeat that for a moment, he felt a lash of satisfaction. 

Hastur grinned. It was unbelievably difficult to appear calm when every step felt like more than he was capable of and his heart was drumming as if it was ready to stop any second now. Thick fog was rolling in his head and he remained on his feet only because of the desperate fear and bitter fury rising in his soul at the sight of Crowley. 

Crowley coughed, choking on his name, and while he tried to catch his breath, grabbing onto a frozen Aziraphale, Hastur approached him. He didn’t remember what happened after the infernal fire flared in his palms. The pain that had accumulated in his soul all this time didn’t let him see or understand what he was doing. He only heard his own desolate cry, rising up into a howl, and felt the heat of the flames throwing orange reflections around him. 

\--- 

When he opened his eyes, it was dark. Cold and greyness wrapped his body, but he didn’t take that in for some time, just lying and staring up. The fog in his head had not lifted yet and he had trouble distinguishing dream and reality. Hastur slowly blinked and shuffled his hand. The guess that he had died proved to be wrong. His hand still hurt at the movement and started pulsating where he had bitten himself not long ago. 

It was still dark around. Hastur tried to summon fire, but then stopped. Sticky dread overcame him at a just returning memory of what had happened. He felt despair freeze his body. Had he really… 

“That was some show you put on,” someone’s voice suddenly said out of the darkness. Hastur shuddered, biting his tongue to stop himself from screaming. 

Lord Beelzebub, in the sole light of a lit cigarette in their fingers, came closer. Hastur sat up on the wet floor, dazedly looking up at the Prince. 

“My lord,” he wheezed, still unsure what was happening, “I didn’t know you smoked.” 

Judging by the smile on their face, zir found this breach of etiquette funny, if anything. 

“It’s not for me,” Beelzebub leaned down and brought the cigarette to his lips. “Welcome back.” 

Hastur caught the paper tip between his lips and watched stupefied how the Prince of hell melted back into the darkness. 

“What?” Hastur wanted to ask, but the lump in his throat didn’t let him. 

The orange eyes shone no less brightly than the fire at the tip of the cigarette when Ligur’s arms circled under his and he embraced him, pressing him close. Hastur forgot how to breathe. He dropped the cigarette which went as soon as it hit the floor. He couldn’t believe in what was happening, dragging his hands all over the familiar coat while Ligur’s warm cheek was pressed next to his ear. 

“Is it really you?” he whispered in a weak voice, vertigo in his head, hardly knowing what was real anymore. There was a lump in his throat and wetness in his eyes and a ringing in his head and Hastur was barely standing straight. 

Ligur let go of him, squeezed him by the shoulders, and looked into his eyes. 

“Yes, my sin, it’s me,” he said, vaguely worried, and then he gasped when he had to catch Hastur, clinging all over him, and lead him out of the hall and to a place with more light. 

\--- 

“What did I do?” Hastur asked, frowning. 

He was lying with his head on Ligur’s knees while he combed his hair with his fingers. He should have felt complete bliss, if it weren’t for the uneasiness about the fractured memory of that day. 

“You set on fire the bookshop of Crowley’s angel,” Ligur answered calmly and Hastur felt warmth in his chest at the tenderness in his voice. 

“And Aziraphale, did he…” Hastur bit his lip, unable to finish the question. For some reason, his breath caught at the realization he could have killed that particular angel. He barely heard the reply over the thudding of his heart in his ears. 

“He’s safe and sound. Crowley got him out, shielding him with his own body. You gave them a mighty scare.” 

Hastur sighed in relief and turned, looking up into Ligur’s face. He was still confused about his return, but despite that, he was so happy that he didn’t even ask about it. But Ligur could read the unspoken question in his eyes. 

“I will tell you about it later,” he said in a tone that at first made everything inside Hastur stay still, and then shatter into a thousand fireworks inside him when Ligur cupped his chin with his warm fingers and slowly touched their lips together. With a huff of warm breath, he added, “I’m sure you missed me just as much as I missed you.” 

**Author's Note:**

> For the translation, I thank my wonderful translator and beta reader!♡


End file.
